


Ripping at the Seams

by Shaitanah



Category: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-20
Updated: 2011-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-17 03:39:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaitanah/pseuds/Shaitanah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek watches Cameron dance. [Episode 1x07, “The Demon Hand” tag]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripping at the Seams

**Author's Note:**

> Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles belongs to Fox and Josh Friedman.

**RIPPING AT THE SEAMS**

 

She is dancing.

 

 _(ripping him apart with every step she takes)_

 

The machine is dancing. Perfect, precise. Artless. Hands designed to form fists that crush everything that is alive, that is different floating fluidly through the air. Feet drawing a chain of noiseless, catlike steps across the floor.

 

Tears burn in his eyes as he recognizes the music piece.

 

 _(never forget what they did in that room in the dark; yet never really remember)_

 

Snippets. They flash through his mind, dull, almost boring, like he’s watching someone else’s life through a misted over glass. They carry the scents of dust, oil, blood, sweat, and the taste of dirt in his mouth. They carry the sound of prayers that are never answered.

 

 _(words shooting through the dark like bullets)_

 

The machine is dancing, causing Derek to cry for the world of the future where such a peculiar thing was not ( _would not be, would not have been_ ) possible. What’s the point? The Russian guy is dead, the ballet teacher is dead, there is no need to keep up the pretense. Machines used to act like machines. They killed and they destroyed, but they never danced.

 

But, they traveled back – and they learned.

 

Each trill of music plunges into him like a whole arsenal of knives and carves him up inside. The metal dances, eats, wears make-up, but underneath all that, it’s just what it is: a machine, deaf to the songs of martyrs that died like livestock by the hand of those of her – its – kind.

 

 _(do you hear music? real music? maybe your friend will tell us)_

 

The machine is dancing, beautiful and terrifying, and Derek forgets how to breathe and just stands there rooted to the spot, until his blood turns to ash and tears melt down his eyes.

 

There is something very wrong with the world.

 

 _August 27, 2010_


End file.
